


Enough

by threerings



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Brief mentions of torture, But pretty vaguely - Freeform, Canon Non-Binary Character, Fluffy in parts, Juno and Peter deal with some of the immediate effects of their trauma, Lots of emotions all over the place, Nightmares, Other, Post-Final Resting Place Fix-it, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spoilers for Season 1, These two actually taking some time to try to work things out, angsty but with a hopeful ending, smutty implications without actual smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 23:38:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13751604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threerings/pseuds/threerings
Summary: There's no way either of them are in good enough shape to jump right into interplanetary travel, so instead Juno and Peter return to his apartment for much needed sleep, food, and rest.  What happens when they start working through the tangle of emotions and desires left in the wake of their time in the tomb?Basically my alternate ending to Final Resting Place.  I don't think it's realistic for these two to immediately jump into bed, or be ready to make decisions about the rest of their lives.  So I gave them a little time and space to deal with things.





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

> *waves to the Penumbra Podcast fandom* Hey, so finishing season 1 destroyed me and I couldn't go on with my life until I wrote this. I could have made this SO INCREDIBLY LONG, but I really have other fics I need to get back to, so this is kinda the short, quick, messy version.

When they were stuck in that tomb they got close. In the off hours, the brief moments of rest Miasma and her goons allowed them, they pressed themselves together, wrapped arms and legs around one another, lay together in silence. Sometimes Juno felt Nureyev’s arms were the only thing holding his psyche together. 

They didn’t speak much. They slept, or lost consciousness to be more accurate, or they just embraced. Often one of them would shake uncontrollably until a soothing hand run up and down their back, or side, or chest finally calmed them into stillness. Every once in a while a kiss was pressed to a forehead, or hair, or even lips. The kisses were chaste, expressions of comfort.

There was no desire in that tomb. No room in either of them for passion when merely surviving with their sanity intact seemed a questionable outcome. Still, though, there was intimacy. In the dark they whispered one another’s names. “Juno.” “Peter.” No other words were available or necessary. 

Once they escaped, that deep and certain intimacy felt somehow at odds with the bright, mundane, noisy world around Juno. Nureyev smiled brightly, his eyes twinkled as they always had, but something new lurked behind them. Juno couldn’t identify it. Was it fear? Uncertainty? Was he already regretting the words they’d spoken through a locked steel door? 

After the visit to the clinic and getting his eye treated (Well, socket. There wasn’t really an eye there anymore.) Juno led Nureyev to his apartment. They were both nearly dropping, not in any shape to immediately enact any of the grand fantasies of travel and adventure that Nureyev spun during their journey back to Hyperion City. At some point he stopped talking about it, and agreed to Juno’s suggestion they go to his place to rest. 

Despite his total exhaustion, Juno’s first stop wasn’t the bed but the shower. He felt like he hadn’t been properly clean in years. It had actually been weeks, but that was a distinction without a difference. When he emerged he found Nureyev sitting on the end of his bed still fully clothed, staring into space. He smiled up at Juno after a moment, then let his eyes rake down his bare chest, to the towel wrapped around his hips. Juno saw his appreciation in the instant before Nureyev jerked his eyes away, looking instead at the dingy beige carpeting. 

Juno stood there a moment more, not sure what to say, what he wanted to say, what the appropriate thing was. Then another wave of exhaustion swept through him and he swayed.

“Thought you’d be asleep already,” he said, crossing in front of Nureyev to his dresser to retrieve some clothes. 

“Didn’t know...” began Nureyev, trailing off. Juno glanced over his shoulder to see him gesture vaguely at the bed. Juno frowned. 

“You can shower if you want. Or borrow some clothes or whatever.” Nureyev hesitated for a moment, then gave a little nod.

“If you have something I can sleep in...” He stood and approached Juno, who rummaged through a drawer to find an oversized shirt, holding it up for approval. Nureyev nodded, taking it. “I’ll go clean up. Then...” He looked once more at the head of the bed. It finally clicked.  
“Ok,” Juno said, trying for casual and probably just ending up at tired. “I feel like I’m going to pass out in about three seconds. Hope you don’t mind sharing a bed with my snores.” 

A smile broke across Nureyev’s face. “Never,” he said, the fond look in his eyes bringing heat to Juno’s face. He quickly hid his reaction by turning back to the dresser. He pulled out a t-shirt and boxers for himself and after hearing the bathroom door click closed behind him, he dropped the towel and dressed quickly. 

He slipped between the sheets. He didn’t think anything had ever felt as good as this bed. _His_ bed, old and slightly musty as it was; it smelled like home and it felt like safety. He burrowed into the pillow and closed his eye, drifting almost immediately. 

He didn’t know how long it had been when he felt the mattress dip next to him. It wasn’t a familiar sensation, someone else in his space, so it woke him slightly. Then he scented Nureyev, not the smell of his cologne but the smell of the man, grown familiar from weeks pressed together underground. Without thinking about it he rolled over, closer to the warm body still sliding between the sheets. He heard a soft sound come from the other man’s lips and then a strong arm slid around his waist as he was pulled closer. 

“Juno,” whispered Peter against his hair. 

“Peter,” he murmured back, the comfort of the other’s body relaxing him the rest of the way into sleep within moments. 

~~

It took longer than he’d expected to feel anything close to functional again. For days he and Nureyev attended mostly to the pure physical demands of their bodies. Sleep, food, rest, hours passing lazily, both of them seeming stunned, still dazed by everything they’d been through.

When they were awake together, they watched some of Rita’s favorite streams, neither of them caring much for the shows, but their undemanding ridiculous plots allowing them some mental rest. Actually talking to Rita, on the other hand, telling her he was alive and well, that had been less restful. But once she’d seen Peter, or “Agent Glass” coming out of Juno’s bedroom, she’d gone pink and left them alone, with lots of insinuating glances. 

Juno sighed after she left, thinking of their plans to leave, considering for the first time the practical aspects of what it meant. When he glanced up he saw Peter watching him with a closed expression. They locked eyes and something passed between them, but Juno’s mind was too confused to parse what it meant. He let himself fall back on the sofa heavily, his body almost immediately demanding sleep again. Nureyev settled beside him and pulled Juno into his arms, letting him rest his heavy head on his shoulder. 

It felt so nice. Safe, in the same way it had in the tomb. Juno had never experienced this kind of physical intimacy before, the easy way Peter touched him, the undemanding embraces. There was a time when he would have burned with wanting if he’d been this close to him, but now he didn’t feel anything other than comfort, and gratitude. He wondered if the desire would ever come back. Had they progressed beyond that? Had they been through too much? Was it only him? He thought of the way Peter had looked at him when he’d come out of the shower and felt suddenly guilty. Was Peter wanting more? Could he tell Juno had no interest in sex? Was he annoyed and angry?

“Hey.” Nureyev’s voice broke through his spinning thoughts. 

“Huh?” He shook himself, looking up. Peter was looking at him, his glowing eyes soft. 

“You’re thinking too loudly,” he said, one corner of his mouth twisting up.

“Oh,” said Juno. “Just...” He sighed. Peter’s hand stoked his hair, tilting his head back towards him. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Juno’s forehead. For a moment Juno wanted to kiss him, really kiss him, but he didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, so he glanced back down. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just still...”

“You have nothing to apologize for, darling.” Juno released a breath. If he thought too much, he was going to wind himself up into a tangled mess. Alright, _more_ of a tangled mess than he already was. “Want to watch another episode?” Peter suggested.

Juno forced himself to relax. “Yeah.” 

Their sleep at night was frequently interrupted when one of them woke gasping or screaming from a nightmare. They never spoke of what they were about; they didn’t need to. For Juno, it was always Peter in pain, screaming, having bits of him cut off because Juno had failed again. He wasn’t sure, but from the way he sometimes called out Juno’s name he thought Peter dreamed about being stuck on the far side of a door from Juno fairly often. Whichever of them was sweating and shaking in the dark, the other pulled close and soothed with their body and soft words. “We’re here. It’s ok. We’re alive. I’m here with you. I’ve got you.”

Bit by bit, Juno felt he was coming out of the fuzzy cocoon he’d been wrapped in. His body was healing, the exhaustion lessening. His mind started working again, no longer content just to passively view the world around him. When he started picking apart the soap opera plots Nureyev laughed and commented that he sounded more himself. 

The sound of that laugh. It wasn’t that Peter hadn’t laughed since the tomb. He had, many times, but they had been a touch manic, a little forced, brittle. For the first time this was a real laugh, warm and familiar in a way that made Juno’s chest ache. 

After a take-out dinner that night, they sprawled together on the sofa, Peter’s head on Juno’s chest. Juno trailed his fingers through his soft, dark hair, no product slicking it back or keeping him perfectly polished. Peter hummed happily. Then he looked up at him, eyes so bright Juno’s breath caught. How could he still do that to him after all this time? 

Peter pushed himself up on his forearms, then stretched forward, getting closer and closer to Juno’s face. He was giving Juno time to deflect, he realized. But he didn’t move, and then Peter’s soft lips pressed to his own. 

It was soft, tender. Careful, at first. When Juno kissed back, though, he felt a shiver travel down Peter’s body. Their lips opened little by little, sliding together, still careful. Peter sucked Juno’s lower lip into his mouth, the lightest graze of teeth across it. Juno gave a soft gasp at the way that sent tingles down his spine. 

Nureyev pushed himself up further, kneeling astride his thighs. He took Juno’s face in his hands firmly, tilted his face up, kissing him with purpose. Still gently, though. Not demanding, not needy or greedy. He kissed as if his kiss were an offering, a gift. He kissed without other objective, no rush, the kiss an end in itself.

No one had ever kissed Juno like that. He felt a bit like he’d never been properly kissed before now. Like everyone else had been doing it wrong, like Peter had some secret knowledge of how to kiss. Or maybe, how to kiss _him._

Eventually they parted, just barely, foreheads tipped together, breathing into the same inch or two of space separating their lips. Juno felt he should say something, but no words came to him. He wanted to tell Peter about the kiss, how incredible it had been, how profoundly shaken he felt. Maybe he already knew. Maybe he felt the same. But probably not.

After some moments frozen like that, Nureyev smiled. Then he lowered himself back down to lay once more on Juno’s chest, the smile lingering on his lips. Juno realized he was smiling back, and he reached down to trace a finger along the curve of the other man’s lips. Peter captured his hand in his own, intertwining their fingers, and closed his eyes, relaxing against him. 

Juno relaxed his head back against the arm of the couch. His pulse was elevated, his lips felt thick, and he could feel the barest warm tingle of arousal deep inside. On the one hand, he thought a kiss like that should have left him rock hard and desperate, but on the other, he was relieved to feel _something_ waking up inside him. He wondered if Peter shared his feelings, if he was having the same...muted reactions. After a minute or two he took a deep breath and bit the bullet.

“Peter?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?” Nureyev opened his eyes.

“How do you...feel?” he asked, wincing inwardly at the awkwardness of the question. 

Peter blinked up at him a couple of times. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean, darling? Physically?”

“Hmm, I guess. I...” Juno sighed. “I just wondered...are you...alright? After everything? He winced, this time visibly. “Sorry, that’s not exactly what I mean...” He made a frustrated sound. Peter’s hand squeezed his own. 

“Why do you ask, love?” said Peter. “Is there something worrying you?” Something in Juno twittered at the endearment, though it was hardly the first time Peter had used it. 

“I just hope you’re...happy?” he said, voice unsure. Peter looked surprised and a bit blank.

“Of _course_ I’m happy,” he said emphatically, pushing himself upright. Juno also shifted to give him more room. Peter’s brow furrowed slightly. “Was there something…? Something to make you think I’m not?” He looked genuinely worried and Juno looked away, regretting his words. 

“No, no,” he assured. He paused, making himself take a breath and choose his words. He sat up farther, pulling his hand free from Peter’s and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Only, well, I’m just starting to feel...at all... _normal_ , I guess. I’ve been...really out of it. So I wondered how you felt...”

“Oh.” Peter pulled his legs up under him in the room vacated by Juno’s. “Well, yes, I suppose I’m also...still... getting my bearings.” He watched Juno for several seconds. Juno wondered if they were both waiting for the other to speak. “We...both went through a lot.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. 

“We haven’t talked about it,” Nureyev added in a lower tone. 

“No,” he agreed, slightly hesitant.

“Do you want to?” Peter looked at him, expression open. “You...I still don’t know what you saw...in my head. If you have questions, you can ask.” Behind the brightness of his eyes, Juno saw a flash of uncertainty. It reminded him of their time in the tomb, of the first night they’d made it back here. He realized Nureyev _was_ concerned about this...about what Juno thought of whatever he’d seen. 

“I...not really,” he said, then smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way before looking at the far wall to gather his thoughts. “I saw Mag...and you...and what happened on New Kinshasa.” Peter nodded, not surprised, still uncertain. Juno made sure to meet his gaze, but he didn’t know what to say to reassure Nureyev. 

“I though as much,” said Peter after a moment. “What about...when you told me not to touch you? You’d seen something then, right?” 

Juno reached out and covered Peter’s hands with his own, making him look up. “At first I saw bits and pieces. I saw you stab him...” He shrugged. “You were right to ask me to look more.” 

Peter’s face looked calm on the surface, but he was pale. Juno squeezed his hand once more. “He wasn’t the first person I murdered. Or the last,” Peter said, voice careful and strangely dull. Juno nodded, willing him to look up and meet his eyes. Instead there was just silence. “Did you believe I was coming back for you?” Peter asked suddenly, eyes rising, voice intent. 

Juno smiled and nodded. “I just wasn’t sure if you’d be in time...or able to stop her.” He shivered. “I thought I’d run out of time.” He leaned forward, sliding an arm around Peter’s slim shoulders. “Peter,” he said tenderly. Peter looked at him, a thin smile curving his lips. 

He raised a hand and cupped Juno’s cheek. “Yes, Juno, darling?” Juno smiled at that, his heart melting at how Peter could make him feel with just a word, a touch. 

“There was a moment, in that tomb, when I wasn’t sure of you. Having seen what I did.” He closed his eyes briefly, reliving the sight of Peter holding the knife, the blood flowing red at his feet. “But then I looked at you, into your eyes, and...” He tipped Peter’s head back with one hand, till his eyes caught the light of the lamp. “You’re so bright. There’s so much _light_ in you.” He pressed his thumb to the center of Peter’s soft lips. Then with a smile he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the same spot. Peter’s lips parted, just enough for Juno to taste him.

As he pulled back, Peter looked sad. He shook his head. “Juno,” he said, voice nearly breaking on the name. “That’s...that’s an act. That’s a performance. I pretend to be carefree and lighter than air because...well, no one wants the alternative.”

Juno frowned, shaking his head. “No.” He was sure. “You think I can’t tell the difference by now? Between your fake smile and your real one? I mean, I’m not saying you’re not good at it; you fooled me for a while. But Peter, we were buried underground in a fucking tomb. Bloody and beaten and nearly fucking broken, and you still...” His throat swelled and his words choked off. “I don’t know how you do it. Hell, I don’t even know how you could _pretend_ to do it. If _I_ survive it’s out of spite and stubbornness. You...seem to actually enjoy it. Enjoy _living_...” 

He broke off, releasing the rest of the air in his lungs in a huff of breath. He could feel Peter’s eyes on his face but he didn’t really want to look and see what kind of expression he had. He’d die if it was pity. He hadn’t meant to...somehow get talking about himself. 

“Darling,” said Peter, voice warm and inviting. He cupped the back of Juno’s neck and leaned in. “I didn’t...I didn’t really know what joy was until I met you, Juno.” His heart thumped loudly in his chest and he turned to Peter in surprise. “You...you make me feel like the person I’ve always pretended to be, my darling.” Peter finished softly. 

Juno blinked at him, surprised to feel the sting of tears behind his eyes, wondering if he was about to entirely embarrass himself. Then they were kissing again, and he couldn’t have said which of them closed the distance. Or maybe they both did. 

It hardly mattered, because they were kissing and this time it was messy. Open-mouthed, needy, both of them making noises in their throats, hands clutching hard at each other. Juno tugged at Peter, urging his body closer, and he complied a bit clumsily, ending up straddling his lap. Their hips ground together and this time Juno grew hard easily. He could feel Peter’s erection, too, sliding against his own, pressing into his stomach. 

“Juno,” breathed Peter when they pulled apart to gasp for air. His eyes were dark with desire, his hips still moving in a tantalizing rhythm. 

“Peter,” he replied. “Will you come to bed with me?” He held up a hand in invitation, though he wasn’t going anywhere until Peter got off his lap. 

“Gladly,” said Nureyev with a smile, taking his hand and then climbing gracefully to his feet. Juno followed suit, then led Peter eagerly to the bed so they could do things properly. 

~~

After that night he and Peter made up for lost time. Learning each other’s bodies felt almost more like remembering than discovery to Juno. As if they had been lovers before, some time in the past, but been separated. He scoffed as the thought as a flight of fancy, but how else could he explain the way Peter could bring him to the brink of ecstasy with a few precise touches? The way he instinctively knew Peter would be powerless to resist him if he got down on his knees and looked up at him. The more they explored, the more compatible they seemed. Juno started to fantasize about things he’d never dared try with anyone else, not liking to leave himself too vulnerable. Perhaps he should make sure his handcuffs (and their key) were close to hand. 

He was surprised when Peter brought up the subject of needing his own clothes. Not because he’d expected the thief to be content wearing poorly fitting cast offs of Juno’s, but because he didn’t say anything about leaving the planet. Instead he simply disappeared for a few hours and came back with a neatly-packed travel bag filled with clothing and toiletries. He apparently had several similar stashes around Mars, just in case. 

Privately, Juno was a little sorry to see the softer, messier version of Nureyev disappear under hair product, subtle make-up, and tailored clothing. But this version definitely had it’s appeal as well. To celebrate his return to form, Peter insisted on taking him out for a nice dinner. He plunged into Juno’s closet to pick something for him to wear, his grumbles falling on deaf ears. 

The rifling of his wardrobe was punctuated by judgmental noises and a distressed cry of “Oh, Juno, _no!_ ” Juno scowled at Nureyev’s slim back. He assumed the occasional hum of consideration meant Peter had found something he considered nearly passable. Finally, when he was started to wonder just how many clothes he could possibly own to take so long, he heard a loud gasp.

“Oh, Juno!” Peter was emerging backwards from the closet door, holding a hanger in front of him. Juno turned to see what he had and blanched. “It’s gorgeous!” continued Peter, oblivious. “This would look _so_ wonderful on you, love.” He turned to hold the red and gold sari out in Juno’s direction.

Juno was already shaking his head and stepped forward to snatch the dress from Peter’s hand. “No,” he said, jerking the garment free. He pushed past Nureyev and shoved the dress back into the very rear of the closet. He turned to see Peter watching him, wide-eyed. “Just...no,” he said, feeling his face heat with embarrassment at his obvious overreaction. He’d just hated to see Peter holding his wedding dress that way. He hated to think of connecting Peter to that mess. It had to be bad luck.

Peter had dropped his expression of astonishment for a much more careful consideration. Several awkward moments passed, but then he merely turned back to the closet and reached for a dress of teal and blue. Juno blinked, a bit shocked that he apparently wasn’t even going to ask the obvious question.

“This, then. I’ve never seen you in a dress, Juno.” He whined a bit like a child begging for a treat, and Juno couldn’t resist a small smile. His pride wanted to put up a fight before giving Peter his way, but part of him simply couldn’t resist the thought of dressing up pretty for his lover. It was rare enough he had the opportunity, and even rarer that someone might appreciate it. 

So Juno Steel, private eye, let Peter Nureyev, master thief, take him out for a date at one of the finest restaurants in Hyperion City, both dressed to the nines. He was surprised how much he enjoyed it, honestly. Was this a preview of what his life might become if they left the planet together? Would it be an endless series of beautiful dresses and witty conversation over expensive whiskey and tiny plates? Just having that thought made Juno feel off-balance and out of place. 

He pushed the sick doubt aside for the moment, though. It undoubtedly helped when they got back to his place and Peter pushed him face-down onto the bed, lifting his dress up just enough to start removing his lace panties, before setting to work with his mouth on Juno’s thighs. He waited until Juno was begging for it before he finally fucked him, the dress still rucked up around his waist as he was pounded into the mattress. 

~~  
It was the following day when Rita called him, leaving a couple messages before he finally picked up. She said there was a woman with a case looking for him. He swallowed down the instinctive interest that rose in him and told her he wasn’t taking cases right now. 

“But, Mista Steel, she _needs_ you. It’s _real_ important.” 

“Rita,” he sighed with exasperation.

“Besides, I already sent her over there. She should be arriving any minute.”

“You did what?!?”

“Well, you wouldn’t answer, and I was pretty sure you were there, so...” 

“Rita! I’m at home! How can you give out my home address like that?” 

“Oh, gotta go, boss, the commercial is over.” 

“Wait!” he shouted, but the connection was already cut. He swore aloud and looked over finally at Nureyev where he stood in the bedroom doorway. His expression was blandly pleasant, despite having obviously overheard all of that. Juno just shook his head with frustration and shrugged. 

“Guess we are getting company.” 

“Will you take her case?” Peter asked, only a hint of interest coming through in his tone. 

“I...” He sighed. He shouldn’t, of course. He was meant to be leaving, shutting down the business, leaving the detective game behind. The problem was that it felt like leaving _himself_ behind. Fuck. He shook his head. He didn’t have time to think about that right now. “Well I don’t intend to,” he answered finally. 

“But you might.”

“I...despite what it seems like Rita’s got pretty good judgment. If she says it’s important...” If Nureyev was going to respond he didn’t get a chance before the door buzzed.

The lady on the other side of the door was middle-aged, poorly-dressed, and scared. Turned out it was her daughter who was missing, only 12 years old, and she thought the girl’s father had something to do with it. She’d been to HCPD but Daddy was connected, and they were acting particularly unmotivated. Mom thought the girl was in danger; seems her father was a nasty character. She didn’t spell it out, but Juno didn’t like what he was reading in between her lines. 

So he did the only thing he could: he took the case. When the worried woman was gone, he turned to Peter again with a shrug. 

“So, guess you’ll be busy for a while,” said Peter before he got a chance to speak. 

“Looks like it,” he agreed carefully. He couldn’t tell if Peter was upset or not. “I can’t say no.”

“No, don’t suppose you can.” Peter sighed. “Well, I’ll have to find something to keep me busy, I guess.” He stood. “How about I go pick us up some dinner. You can get started working in the meantime.” 

Juno stood, touched by the gesture. “Thanks, Nureyev,” he said, approaching the other man. “Sorry about this.” Peter smiled back and just shook off his apology. 

The case wasn’t really a complicated one. The father wouldn’t admit to having the girl, so he had to track her down and either get her free or get clear enough evidence of the father having kidnapped her for the police to step in. Once he did enough background research to be pretty sure the mother was telling the truth, the father had the girl, and a hunch about where he was holding her, it was mostly solved. At that point he just had to ask Peter for help breaching the building’s security and extracting the girl safely. After two days hard work, and some close calls with security bots, the girl was reunited with her mother. 

Juno was wiped, but for a change he’d cracked a case that didn’t leave him feeling worse off after than he had before. He still held a glass of booze in his hand as he stretched out on the sofa, but it was celebratory rather than analgesic. 

Despite his success, Juno sank into a reverie, only realizing how much time had passed when he went to take a sip of his drink and found it was empty. He looked around to find the bottle and froze. He’d utterly forgotten Peter was in the room. Nureyev was sitting in the armchair a few feet away, also holding a whiskey glass, but it looked like he’d barely touched it. He frowned at Juno. 

“You’re not leaving, are you?” Peter said into the silence, as if continuing a conversation. Juno’s stomach plummeted and his heart rate climbed.

“I...I didn’t say that.” It was a hedge, a stall, but Peter’s expression had him panicking. 

“You’re thinking it, though.”

“Thought I was the one who got the mind-reading powers, not you?” he tried for a teasing tone, but was pretty sure he fell pretty far shy of it. 

“Don’t, Juno.” Peter sounded angry, though the only real sign of it was the curt way he clipped his words. Juno had never heard him sound that way.

“Peter...are you...” He cut himself off, not sure he wanted to ask. He stared at the far wall. “It’s a lot to ask,” he said instead.

It took several beats before Peter replied. “It’s a lot to offer, too. A lot to see. I thought you wanted to.”

“I...” His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know anymore. This is my home. My whole world. I know it’s kinda shitty, but...it’s mine.” 

“Juno.” The way Peter said his name never stopped giving him a thrill. Even when he sounded sad and tired. 

“And it’s...my work is here, Peter.” He looked at his lover then, willing him to understand. “This...if I wasn’t here what would have happened to little Stephanie tonight? If we had left three days ago...she could be dead or worse by now.”

“You’re not responsible for everything that happens in this city, Juno.” 

“No, but...I can help it. I...sometimes I’m the only one who can. That’s all I _have_ , Peter. It’s what I _am._ ”

“It doesn’t have to be. You can be anything you want.”

“No, _you_ can be anything you want!” He was leaning forward, his voice echoing a bit from the corners. “I...don’t know that I can. I’m Juno Steel, detective. That’s who I am. I...I don’t want to be someone else.” He saw Peter’s brow twist down. 

“This place...this city...it doesn’t deserve you, Juno,” he said after a moment’s silence. Juno just shook his head helplessly. Peter didn’t understand.

“Maybe. But I deserve it.” His eyes bored into his lover’s, pleading silently. Peter shook his head, lips pressed together thinly. 

“So...what...that’s it?” he asked, words clipped. Juno blinked at him. His chest tightened. 

“I...don’t know. I want to be with you, Peter, but I can’t...” he took a deep breath. “I can’t give up everything for it. I can’t...I can’t choose you over everything I know. Over this whole world.” 

Peter wouldn’t look at him. He was looking at some spot over Juno’s right shoulder, bottom lip caught in between his teeth. His breathing was shallow. 

“Peter,” Juno said, almost a whisper. Peter threw up a hand to stop him talking. 

“I need...I need some time.” He stood, glancing only briefly towards Juno before moving towards the door of the apartment, reaching for his coat where it hung on the wall.

“Peter!” called Juno in alarm, jumping to his feet. Peter looked back at him. “Are you...please don’t...leave,” he said, nearly unable to get out the words through the fear in his throat. Peter’s eyes widened and then his face softened, his head shaking rapidly. 

“No,” he said. “No, darling, I’m not. I won’t...not without saying goodbye.” Juno watched him closely, unsure whether it was safe to trust him. “I promise, Juno. I just need to get some air.” 

“Promise,” he repeated, hearing the fear in his own voice. 

Peter nodded again. “I promise.” 

~~

By the time Peter returned in the early hours of the morning, Juno had finished the bottle. It wasn’t until elegant hands shook him awake that he realized he’d fallen asleep on the couch.

“Peter?” he slurred. The body sitting on the couch very close to his head smelled like Nureyev, at least. At the thought something in his chest clenched.

“I probably shouldn’t be surprised,” said Peter from above him. “But did you have to drink the whole bottle?” 

“Apparently,” he replied, trying to push himself up without actually opening his eyes wide enough to let any light in. 

“I said I was coming back.” Peter assisted him into a sitting position.

“Yeah, well, whiskey kept me company until you did.” 

“Let’s get you in bed.” Peter heaved him upright and guided him the short distance to the bed. Juno tried to pull him in after him, but Peter resisted. “Hold on, love, I’m going to get you some water. You’ll thank me tomorrow.” He ignored Juno’s whines and fetched a glass from the kitchen, then made Juno drink half of it immediately. 

Once that was accomplished, Juno set to work getting Peter both undressed and in the bed with him. “Juno, what are you doing?” 

“What does it look like?”

“Well, right now it looks like you’ve forgotten how jackets work.” Juno snickered. 

“Fine, you do it then. I need you.”

“You need sleep, Juno, you’re drunk.” 

“And horny. Please, Peter.” Peter stood and Juno smiled at the rustle of clothing being removed. “Come on!”

“Look, I’m coming to bed, just be patient, alright?” Juno hummed in agreement and set about getting out of his shirt, which fought back a little, but eventually he got it over his head. His pants were slightly more complicated, being attached to a belt. 

“Peter, I need you to take me out.” He giggled. “I mean. Me. Out. Of my pants.” More giggles. He heard a sound of exasperation from the foot of the bed. Then Peter was in the bed with him, still in his underwear, but his skin glowed in the dim light, and Juno reached out to touch him. 

“Hold still,” commanded Nureyev and his hands set to work on Juno’s belt. After a while they finally managed to free him from his pants, working together. Juno pushed his underwear down as well, squirming until he kicked them loose. Then he pressed up to Peter, who went stiff. And not in the fun way.

“Peter, please,” he whined. 

“No, Juno, I told you. You’re too drunk.” Peter pushed his hands away, moving away until there was a foot of empty space between their bodies. 

“I’m not. I’ll just lay here, let you do all the work.” He laughed at his own joke, but Peter just sighed. 

“Juno, I’m not in the mood, okay?” he said, annoyance creeping into his voice. Juno’s spirits fell.

“Oh.” He lay still, staring at the ceiling above him. “You’re going to leave though.” Peter didn’t answer immediately. Juno pressed his fist to his mouth and rolled over quickly, turning his back to Peter, and focused on breathing. 

After some period of time during which Juno felt he was doing very well at not bursting into tears, he heard Peter shifting behind him. The other man moved close behind him, running a hand down Juno’s spine.

“Juno, love, I’m not leaving tomorrow. Not unless you ask me to.” 

“When, then?” 

“I don’t know. Eventually.” 

“And until then?”

‘Until then I want to be with you. I’m in love with you, Juno Steel.” Juno’s breath caught. A shudder passed through him, though he tried to suppress it. He wanted so badly to be able to enjoy Peter’s words, but he couldn’t afford to.

“And I’m just supposed to what...keep guessing about when you’re just going to disappear?”

“I...I won’t leave without telling you.” Peter moved closer and leaned his forehead against Juno’s shoulder. “And I won’t leave forever. I’ll come back.”

“Will you?” Juno hated how small his voice sounded.

“Yes. If you won’t leave Mars...I’ll visit.” Juno considered for several beats. Then he squeezed his eyes shut tightly and flipped over, pressing his face to Peter’s bare chest, continuing to press closer until he was being held tightly enough. 

Peter stroked his hair, his back, wrapped his legs around Juno’s, and he started to feel safe again. Maybe it was fleeting, maybe it was an empty promise, but...maybe it was good enough. Good enough for now. 

“You, too,” he mumbled against Peter’s chest. 

“Hmm?” Peter bent his neck to get closer.

“’M in love with you, too,” he forced out, face hot. He squirmed some more, as if he could hide from his own words, but Peter caught his face in one hand, lifted it up.

“Oh, Juno,” he breathed, just before pressing a kiss to his lips. It was off-center, and at an awkward angle, and Juno was pretty sure his breath was terrible, but it still filled his entire body with warmth and he felt, maybe for the first time ever, that things might turn out okay after all.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's totally what happened, I hereby replace canon with this in my brain so I don't spend any more time crying over these beautiful idiots. 
> 
> For real the only reason I wrote this is because I thought of the line, "You make me feel like the person I pretend to be" and it was too fucking good not to write about. The fic kinda went all over the place and it could have been a multi-chapter epic but No Time, so this is kinda highlighted scenes of the larger story my brain wanted.
> 
> There's a chance I might go back and write the porny bits because, trust me, I have so many thoughts about them. If I do I'll add another story as a sequel. 
> 
> In somewhat random thoughts, sharing only because no one I know has listened to the show and I have you here, I just discovered the song [Caught Out In The Rain, by Beth Hart](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DuDhiHSksaA) and OMG it's such a Jupeter song that I listened to it over and over while writing this. I really need to know if it rains in Hyperion City, though, before like naming a fic after it.
> 
> I'm @kimthreerings on Tumblr, but mostly I do Yuri on Ice, but I'd love to have some TPP friends. No one understands the pain I've been dealing with. Gah.
> 
> ETA: I have [a new Tumblr sideblog for Penumbra Podcast, Adventure Zone and Critical Role. ](http://gentlysociallypinned.tumblr.com)


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